


not exactly my cup of tea

by starkhasheart



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, DFAB reader, Eventual Relationships, Gender-neutral Reader, Hate to Love, Other, Paranoia, Reader-Insert, Stalking, Tags will be updated, Violence, stalkers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkhasheart/pseuds/starkhasheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You live in a sleepy little apartment complex and work at a quaint coffee shop directly across from it. Your life is calm, quiet, and peaceful. </p><p>That is, until a certain celebrity robot moves into the apartment next to yours and is determined to make you become his number one fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. my new neighbor is a celebrity robot, how do i deal with this?

**Author's Note:**

> if you like robots...if you like dating robots...if you like FUCKING robots...then you're in the right place
> 
> SO WELCOME BACK TO ANOTHER METTATON/READER FIC!!! if you liked my other fic "beauty killer" then i hope you like this one as well~ once again, i have no idea what i'm doing!
> 
> a person i talked to on tumblr helped me come up with this idea!!! their url is crowndetective.tumblr.com!
> 
> follow me on tumblr and twitter!
> 
> mettagod.tumblr.com
> 
> @korosenseis

At the moment, your life was calm. A routine was established that you followed every morning: get up, shower, get dressed, eat, go to work, etc. For some, this way of life might seem bland, boring, but to you, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sudden change did not work well with you; it threw you off and made your already high anxiety skyrocket to infinity and beyond. The routine was good, and of course you would stray away from it from time to time, but you almost always stuck with it.

Today was no different. You woke up to the sound of your phone’s alarm, you grabbed a quick shower, hopped into your barista outfit, and blow-dried your hair with a granola bar shoved into your mouth. You had no need to hurry, since the café was just across the street from your apartment complex and walking there took little to no time at all, but you liked to be early. It gave you more time to prepare for the day.

Since it was still early in the morning traffic wasn’t as crazy, so you were able to make it across the street to the café where you worked. It was a quaint, quirky little coffee shop nestled on a street corner, frequented by monsters and humans alike. It hosted open mic nights for singers/comedians/slam poets and often had art hanging from the walls from local artists wanting to display their works. Inside of the building scents of coffee and vanilla flowed through the air and it was filled with the quiet chitchat of customers coming in and out.

It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was a shield from the chaos of the outside world.

It was early in the morning and you were opening, so you quickly unlocked the front doors and stepped inside, hearing the bell clink as it opened and the latch click as it shut behind you. Catty and Bratty weren’t there, but that was obvious. They never came in at this time.

You quickly got to work, going from table to table, picking the chairs up and putting them on the ground. You started off the usual brew of black coffee, since the activity was picking up outside the windows and customers would start trickling in at any moment. You could handle the morning crowd, since most of them were too drowsy to be a problem and just wanted some coffee. When the lunchtime rush came in that was when you needed the most help, and that’s where Catty and Bratty came in.

An hour before lunch the two finally arrived, at the same time, of course, since they were basically connected at the hip. The two started working at the café about the same time you had, when the monsters finally were liberated to the surface. They were bright, bubbly, and friendly, which was great for working here. In your opinion they really needed to work on the whole not-talking-at-the-same-time thing.

“ _Ohmigosh_ , you’ll never guess what we heard on the train over here!” Catty and Bratty gushed at the same time, perfectly in sync.

“And what would that be?” you said, mindlessly wiping down the counter. The lunch rush was over and the café was currently dead, minus a few stragglers.

“Apparently, Mettaton is, like, totally going to be filming a movie here,” Bratty drawled, fluttering her long eyelashes.

“And, like, he’s gonna be staying in town! For who knows how long.” Catty’s eyes started sparkling and she clasped her paws together. “OMG, what if we, like—”

“—totally got to meet Mettaton?” Bratty finished for her, and the two started squealing in excitement.

Your arm stopped moving for a second, then picked right on up. “Maybe he’ll come here and make our business boom.”

“What if he totally does, though?” the two squeak in unison.

“Then maybe he’ll motivate you to do your work,” you replied, playfully tossing your washrag at Catty’s face. She squawked at the impact and you snickered, barely registering the ringing of the bell as the door opened.

“Hello, welcome to—” You cut off when you saw who it was. “Heya, Frisk and Toriel! School just let out, I take it?”

Frisk merely nodded, bounding over to you and hugging your legs. They had grown since the last time you had saw them; their head now reached your waist. You laughed and leaned down to return the hug, pressing a kiss to their hair. “How are you, buddy?”

Frisk giggled and pulled away so they could sign up at you. _I’m okay. I wanted to stop by and visit and Mom wanted some tea from here. How are you?_

You could hear Toriel getting her usual order of tea. Since Catty and Bratty were taking care of it, you decided to chat with Frisk. “I’m good too, same old, same old. Life gets pretty boring when you grow up. Anything new happening with you?”

They shrugged. _Not really. But my uncle is coming to town and I’m really excited to see him!_

You blinked. “I didn’t know you had an uncle.”

“Well, he’s not exactly their uncle, so to speak, since I have no brothers,” Toriel piped from the counter, sipping her freshly-brewed tea.

 _He’s Uncle MTT!_ Frisk signed excitedly up at you. At this, Catty and Bratty gasped loudly behind the counter and started squealing, holding each other’s hands.

“He’s really gonna be here! Oh my god, we should, like, totally get an autograph from him!” they both squeaked. You really needed to tell them to tone it down for the sake of your eardrums.

“I believe he’s going to be living around here for a while for a new movie he’s shooting,” Toriel said. “Goodness, imagine all the traffic that would cause…”

Inside you were starting to panic but on the outside you kept yourself calm. Imagining any change to your routine sent your stomach in a knot.

 _I hope you get to meet him!_ Frisk signed, smiling. _He’s loud and…a bit of a drama queen, but he’s really nice._

“Well, kiddo, if I do you’ll be the first to know,” you said, ruffling their hair. “Definitely not Catty and Bratty, since they’d probably kill me out of jealously.”

 

Frisk and Toriel departed, and a few hours after they did, you left as well, since Catty and Bratty worked until closing. Rush hour was just beginning and you were swift in your steps across the street to avoid getting rammed into by a car. You made it to the other side unscathed.

When you reached your apartment you were met with an onslaught of commotion; a crowd was gathered outside the entrance to your apartment—humans and monsters of varying ages and genders, and they seemed to be holding signs and dressed like they were about to go to a concert. You narrowed your eyes, pursing your lips in confusion. They were blocking the front entrance and there was no way you were going to be able to push your way through the battalion. You sighed, turning around and working your way around the building to the back entrance. Luckily no one was crowding around the door so you made it into the complex without another hitch.

You were boggled. You hadn’t the faintest idea why a crowd of people would be gathered at the entrance to your apartment complex. Had something happened? Worry twisted your gut.

You shook your head, dismissing your thoughts as you climbed up the three flights of stairs that led to your apartment. The elevator was out of service—like it always was.

You expected to find the hallway of your floor to be empty, which it was, except for a figure standing in the middle of the hallway, in front of a door right next to your apartment. They weren’t someone you recognized immediately, but as you approached them, they started to become more familiar. They had a tall, curvy figure with long, shapely legs adorned with hot-pink knee-high high-heeled boots. They were dressed in casual wear, with a crop top and black leggings. Their black hair was pulled back into a small ponytail and a curtain of bangs shielding the right side of their face.

At the sound of your footsteps, they turned to face you. You froze.

You had never seen Mettaton in the flesh, only on commercials and his TV shows and the movies that Catty and Bratty had forced you to watch. Honestly, you weren’t too big of a fan of his; his movies were subpar and his music wasn’t your cup of tea, but you did like the little ghost DJ that was a part of his band. Personality wise, he just didn’t appeal to you. He seemed too loud. Too unpredictable. All over the place.

And he was standing right in front of you.

He blinked at you, tilting his head to the side. You swallowed, giving him a small smile before you stepped in front of your apartment door and began to unlock it.

“You live here, I take it?”

His smooth robotic voice made you stop and you turned to him. “Uh, yeah. I’m not just breaking into some random stranger’s apartment.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as rude as it sounded, but he just laughed it off. “Sorry, that was a silly question. I just wanted to get to know my new neighbors.”

Wait what.

_Neighbors?_

“You’re m-moving in here?” you stammered, your throat dry.

“Well, I’m shooting a movie here soon, so I figured it would be nice for me to get a good layout of the town and have an understanding of it,” he trilled, his sentence ending in a snicker. “Why do you sound so unhappy, sweetheart? Usually my fans are more ecstatic than you are.”

At this you barked out a laugh, leaning against your door for support. Mettaton raised a perfectly arched brow at you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m not really a fan of yours, per se.” You really hoped you weren’t sounding like a total bitch, but, knowing your track record, you totally were.

He, however, had no look of offense on his face. The eyebrow remained quirked, but something flashed in his eye—something you were familiar with. A flash of _determination_. His hip cocked to the side and his hand dropped to rest on it.

“Well, darling, I guess it’s my job to change that.” He flashed you a perfectly white smile and you acted on your impulse to swallow. You merely let out an “Uh-huh” before opening the door to your apartment and shutting it just as quickly. Just as a precaution, you locked it as well.

So that’s why all of those people were surrounding the front of the apartment. They were a bunch of Mettaton’s fans that caught wind of where he’d be staying and they just had to see for themselves. Loud, boisterous fans, who screamed, who shouted, who made _too much noise_.

You groaned loudly as you threw yourself onto the couch in the living room, burying your head in the pillows. Your whole world felt like it was being thrown around and you couldn’t even do anything about it.


	2. please don't sing tracy chapman at five in the morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i see yall filthy robot fuckers...i see yall
> 
> i was listening to the ut soundtrack and crying the whole time i wrote this 
> 
> follow me on tumblr @ mettagod  
> twitter @korosenseis
> 
> enjoy!

The next morning your routine was already thrown off kilter.

You hadn’t woken up to your phone’s alarm; no, you had woken up to someone singing. Very loudly, in fact, and _very_ early in the morning. You grimaced, slinging a pillow over your face in hopes of blocking out the noise, but it didn’t help. Surely you couldn’t be the only one that could hear it? Maybe someone would complain and it would stop.

It didn’t.

_“Give me one reason to stay here_

_And I’ll turn right back around_

_Give me one reason to stay here_

_Oh, I’ll turn right back around”_

Your sleep-deprived mind was boggled, trying to deduce who the hell would be singing at this godawful hour. Then you very slowly recalled the events of the day before and you groaned aloud, hoping the pillow would smother you. Why would Mettaton be up singing this early?

“Because he’s a stupid robot,” you grumbled to yourself. “And robots don’t need sleep.”

“ _The youthful heart can love you_

_Yes, and give you what you need_

_I said this youthful heart can love you_

_Oh, and give you what you need_ ”

You forced yourself to sit up and allowed yourself a glance at your phone to check the time. It was ten past five in the morning and you didn’t need to get up for another three hours. It was still pitch black outside.

And you were awake because a stupid celebrity robot thought he was entitled to sing loudly at the asscrack of dawn.

Well, you certainly weren’t going to put up with this.

You toed on some slippers and shrugged into a jacket, not caring about your appearance. Your hair was a mess and you probably looked like you had gotten ran over by a truck, and that’s how you felt. You tapped a rhythm on the robot’s door with your knuckle, your best scowl plastered on your face, not willing to admit that he wasn’t _too_ bad at singing. 

Were you going to concede that to his face? Of course not. That would just give him more incentive to do it.

“Coming, darling!” came a singsong reply, and seconds after the door opened to reveal the robot himself, dressed in a luxurious robe that probably cost more than your whole college tuition (which you were still paying). “Oh, my, it’s you, sweetheart! To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure?”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Either way you kind of wanted to break his perfectly-sculpted jaw.

“Do you know what time it is?” It was a safe question to ask besides socking him right in the face.

“Why, it’s around five, or so, I do believe.” Mettaton’s painted lips curled into a catlike grin. “Why do you ask? I assume you didn’t come to just inquire me about the time, gorgeous.”

You wondered why he threw around pet names like candy at a parade. “Y’know, I’m not too familiarized with how robots work, but I assure you that robots and humans are completely _different._ For example, humans need to _sleep_. I didn’t know if you knew that or not.”

“Honey, I’m _well_ aware that humans need sleep.” The way he ended his sentence with a purring chuckle made you believe it had another meaning. You didn’t want to mull over it right now.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I had been doing. Sleeping, y’know? Wrapped in the sweet embrace of sleep. But you woke me up with your singing.” _Your damn good singing_. _Shut the fuck up, brain._

Mettaton just blinked at you, as if he was waiting for you to elaborate. You sighed, rubbing your temples, about to explain it again, when he let out an “Oh!” and fluttered his eyelashes at you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart!” For some ungodly reason, he grabbed your hands and held them close to his chest. Your eye twitched. Maybe he knew you weren’t in the best mood so he wanted to do away with your weapons of choice, by holding them in his very warm, surprisingly soft hands. “I guess I’m not used to living so close to humans…and the walls here are incredibly thin.”

You were surprised at how sincere his apology was, with no trace of smugness that you could detect. He gave you a kind smile and your hands a squeeze before he let them drop down lankly to your sides. You cleared your throat, wishing away the flush creeping up your neck.

“Yeah, well,” you mumbled, scratching your chin. “Just...sing when it’s not five in the morning and I’m not asleep. Or at home. Anyway, I’m just gonna go. Good night— _morning_.”

“Wait, darling. Are you sure you don’t want to come in and join me for a cup of tea?”

Why the hell was he offering this at five in the morning? Especially to you, since you just met yesterday? This robot completely baffled you. “Uh…thanks for the offer, but I really should try and go back to sleep, since I have work in a couple hours and all.”

“Ooh! Where do you work?”

Your first instinct was to lie. “Uh…out of state.” And before he could question you any further you raced into your apartment and shut the door behind you.

“Sweet Christ,” you murmured to yourself, scrubbing your face with your hands. You were wide awake now, but you still crawled back into your bed, rolling around in your blankets before staring blankly at your off-white ceiling.

At least the singing stopped.

 

Sleep managed to take over once again, only for a short while. The sound of your alarm jolted you awake and you felt sluggish and half-dead. You stabbed the off button with your finger and groaned loudly into your pillow. The dull beginnings of a headache were starting to throb at the base of your skull and you figured you should force yourself out of bed so you can pop some ibuprofen before it got any worse.

A cold shower and a cup of coffee brought you to your senses and you tried pacing around your kitchen to allow the caffeine to flow through you. You dressed in your barista uniform quickly and stretched, shaking your head. You couldn’t afford to be drowsy at work.

Your hand was on the knob of the door when you stopped in your tracks.

“ _Give me one reason to stay here_ ,” Mettaton sang, and you heard the door to his apartment open and click shut. “ _And I’ll turn right back around._ ”

He started humming the rest, the clicking of his heels acting as a beat as his harmonious voice faded, and you assumed he wasn’t on the floor. Cautiously, you poked your head out of your door and scanned the premises before you deemed it safe to go out.

That song was going to be stuck in your head all day.

Since you assumed that Mettaton’s cult was going to be crowded around the front doors you opted to sneak out of the back entrance, tiptoeing around the building before peeking around the corner. Sure enough, a crowd of Mettaton’s fans were waiting outside, and from the looks of it Mettaton was in the middle of all that chaos. You took this opportunity to race across the street, narrowly avoiding cars that were driving up and down the road. Heaving a sigh of relief, you quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside of the café.

“ _The youthful heart can love you_ ,” you warbled as you got to work on getting the café ready. “ _And give you what you need_ …” You were right. That song was going to be stuck in your head for the rest of the day and it was his fault.

 

The café was busier than usual, and you guessed you had Mettaton to thank for that. But eventually Catty and Bratty clocked in, looking more ecstatic than usual. You could thank Mettaton for that, too.

“ _What?_ What do you mean Mettaton is staying in the apartment next to yours?” Bratty gasped, covering her mouth with a perfectly-manicured hand.

“Can we, like, totally stay the night?” the two asked in unison.

You rolled your eyes. “He said he wanted to get to know the town since he’s filming here so that’s why he’s staying. And no, you can’t stay the night. You would probably try and break into his apartment while I’m asleep.”

The two sighed in defeat, pouting. Catty’s ears flicked when the bell rang, signaling that someone had entered the café. You turned to greet them, and you smiled when you saw who it was.

“Hi, guys!” you said as Alphys and Undyne approached the counter, holding hands. Alphys was wearing a _Mew Mew Kissy Cutie_ t-shirt and Undyne was dressed in a tight black tank top with jeans and boots. “I didn’t expect to see you here today, what can I make you?”

You noticed Undyne had something in her hand when she threw it at you, and you caught it clumsily, nearly dropping it. It was a box of tea bags, labelled _Golden Flower Tea_.

“Two cups of that, please!” Undyne gave you a sharp-toothed grin. “I figured you guys didn’t sell it on the menu so I brought it in. You can keep the rest, kid.”

“You’re right, we don’t have this on the menu.” You smiled, taking out two teabags. “And thanks. I’ll get your tea ready right away.”

Since Alphys was so short, she needed Undyne’s help to sit on one of the barstools. It was kind of cute, you thought. “So, how h-have you been?”

“Eh, y’know, same old, same old,” you replied, waiting for the water to boil. “I just work a lot so I don’t really do anything fun.”

“Man, some of you humans are so _boring_ ,” Undyne remarked, slamming her fist down onto the bar. The noise of the impact hushed the murmur of the café, only for a tick. You glared at her pointedly and she smiled sheepishly.

“Omg, you should, like—” Bratty began.

“—totally tell them who moved into the apartment next to you!” Catty finished.

You groaned as you poured the hot water over the tea, allowing it to steep. “Alphys, did you know that your little creation decided it would be a good idea to move right into the apartment next to mine?”

“Oh, gosh,” Alphys said, voice warbling like it always did as you gingerly sat two cups of tea on the counter. “He’s a-always been like that, wanting to get to know the whole setting of every movie he shoots. I h-hope he’s not bothering you.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh. He just sings really early in the morning and wakes me up. Also I kind of mentioned I wasn’t a huge fan of his and he had this look in his eye, y’know. A very determined look.”

“S-Sounds like he’s determined to make you a fan,” Alphys replied between blowing on her tea to cool it down. “S-Speaking of Mettaton, he should be here soon—”

Surprisingly, you, Catty, and Bratty, all yelped “What?!” at the same time, causing Alphys to jolt in surprise, nearly spilling her tea. Luckily, Undyne was there to save it before it poured all over the place.

“Mettaton’s coming?” Bratty gasped, holding Catty’s paws.

“ _Here?_ ” Catty squeaked louder, and you noticed that some of the customers were staring at you.

You felt sweat clustering on the back of your neck and anxiety twisted your gut. “Wh-Why is he coming here?”

Undyne shrugged, drinking the hot tea like it wasn’t almost boiling. “Alphys wanted to visit so she arranged a little get-together here. He should be on break from filming and on his way, right, Al?”

“Yep! J-Just got a text from him.” Alphys tapped her claws on her phone screen. “He’s walking across the street now, actually.”

“Shit, I gotta hide,” you muttered to yourself, and immediately ducked down behind the counter. Undyne leaned over and quirked a brow at you. You figured Alphys would too, if she weren’t so short.

“He can’t know I work here,” you hissed up at her, hearing the bell to the door ringing and the simultaneous squeals from your overenthusiastic coworkers. “He’d probably bug me all the time.” And you heard the heels clicking, those heels that belonged to those knee-high boots of Mettaton’s, on the floor of your café. You scooted closer against the back of the counter, praying to God that he wouldn’t see you.

“Alphys, darling!” the robot exclaimed, and you heard Alphys’s chair scoot away from the counter, and you imagined her hopping off of it to give Mettaton a hug. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Mettaton.” The sounds of two chairs scraping against the floor as Mettaton took a seat and _oh, fuck,_ you didn’t take into account how tall he was.

“My, my, what have we here?” _Don’t you fucking do it. Don’t you fucking lean over the counter_ —he leaned over the counter and suddenly the two of you were face-to-face; however, he was upside down and for some reason his hair stayed perfectly in place.

You squeaked and recoiled away from him, slamming your head into the back of the counter. You hissed in pain, rubbing the back of your head.

“Hello, neighbor,” Mettaton said with a laugh. “What are you doing under—”

He paused suddenly and that’s when you noticed he was scrutinizing your uniform, specifically your nametag. A silence fell between you two, and he cocked his head to the side. His perfectly painted lips began to part, and he said your name softly. The way he said your name, like it was a prayer, made your stomach do flips and inside of your head you felt like flinging yourself off the nearest building.

“I finally know your name now, darling. And I assume you work here, as well? Seeing as you’re dressed for the part and all.”

Well, shit. There was no avoiding it now. “Uh…yeah.”

“Then why on earth are you hiding under there, darling?”

“I’m on break,” you answered simply. “And I like to sit under here. Uh…you can go back to your friend-date now. If you need anything just as those two.”

“We’d be happy to get you anything, Mettaton!” the two monsters echoed, giggling. Mettaton whipped up and gave them a movie star grin and you swore the two were going to pass out right on the spot.

“Splendid! I’ll have the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Mettaton bent down to pay you another wink before he returned to chat with Alphys, and you covered your face in your hands, glad that your groan of anguish was muffled by the sound of the coffee grinders.


	3. darling, i'd prefer it if you stayed alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iam so tired and i have a ton of work i keep putting off so sorry if this seems v short and dry

Just like you had predicted, Mettaton had made it an irritable habit to frequent the coffee shop you worked at during his breaks from filming—and he never seemed to order anything; he was only there to make small talk with you. Of course, Catty and Bratty didn’t seem to mind, seeking out every free moment they could to chat with the robot (which seemed more often than not). However Mettaton didn’t seem annoyed at all by it; he seemed to enjoy the company, or in this case—the attention.

The celebrity’s constant presence also brought a bunch of business to the café, so you were constantly on your feet running to and fro, and at the end of the day exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Mettaton noted this and one evening after closing he had somehow managed to sneak into the café without you even realizing it. While you were drowsily wiping down the counter two gloved hands smacked down onto the wood and jolted you out of your haze violently, and you glared up at him.

“What are you _doing_ here?” you hissed. “It’s closing time. How did you even get in here, the door is locked!”

“Two of my biggest fans lent me a spare key.” Mettaton chuckled, twirling the key on his finger. You lurched over to snatch it but he was too fast and you ended up sprawled over the bar.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to stand back up, cursing Bratty and Catty under your breath. You dusted off the front of your apron and cleared your throat, resuming wiping the counter. “The question still stands: what are you doing here? I’m not making you coffee or anything so you’re out of luck.”

“Darling, I don’t _want_ you to make me anything. What I _want_ you to do is to take a break.”

You halted, your head lifting up to stare at him in confusion. “What?”

“Take. A. Break.” He enunciated every syllable and you tried not to pay attention to how his tongue or lips formed the words. “You’ve been working yourself silly and you need to take a break.”

Your exhausted brain struggled to make sense of what he was saying to you. Sighing, you threw down the cloth and rubbed your eyes before you responded.

“Listen. I don’t know what plane of existence you live on but I assure you it’s much more different than mine. I can’t afford to ‘take a break’. I have bills to pay.” And you needed to eat, unlike Mettaton.

“But you’re going to work yourself into the hospital and that will be even more bills for you to pay, sweetheart,” Mettaton pressed, and he was actually pouting. “Plus with a break you’d be able to work twice as hard when you came back from it.”

Damn it. He was making really good points, but still. You couldn’t afford to take a break. You could barely pay the bills and keep food in your fridge with the amount of money you made now. Taking a day off could lead to not having electricity or water, or even worse.

“Look, I appreciate your concern for me. I really do.” You also wondered why he was showing this concern for you when you wouldn’t even tell him the time of day. “But I can’t afford to take off. I just can’t. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get back to work.”

Mettaton pursed his lips, then huffed. “Fine. I’ll be sure to visit you in the hospital when you collapse from exhaustion.”

You watched as he turned on his heel and sashayed out of the café, the bell clinging as he made his exit. You shook your head, returning your attention to the rest of the café, and all of the work you needed to do before you could go home.

 

It was half past twelve in the morning when you finally got done closing and you were dead on your feet. It took you a few times to lock the door to the café, your hand struggling to slide the key into the lock. You stood there for a moment, trying to collect your bearings before you even attempted to cross the street. Your eyelids drooped and a massive yawn bubbled in your throat. Were the edges of your vision shimmering? No, it couldn’t be. Maybe it was just the lighting on the streets.

You hobbled your way over to the crosswalk and assumed since it was twelve in the morning no one in their right mind (besides you) would be up and driving so you began to cross the road, barely able to register your surroundings.

You didn’t see the car coming, didn’t notice it was speeding or the fact that the driver was probably drunk as hell. You didn’t notice that the car was hurtling towards you and even if you did, it probably would have been too late.

It happened almost in slow motion. You turned and your eyes narrowed at the bright headlights flying towards you and you froze, your feet rooted to the asphalt. Your exhausted mind couldn’t comprehend the situation, couldn’t tell your legs to move you the hell out of the way. You stood there, a scream trapped in your throat, awaiting the impact.

There wasn’t one.

What there was, was the sound of something metal unwinding and springing free, and before you knew it you felt something wrap around you and yank you out of the way. Gasping, your eyes snapped down to see Mettaton’s metal arm was wound around you snugly, and that it was him who wrenched you out of the way of danger. He was standing at the other end of the crosswalk and his fucking arm was stretched out. Your jaw dropped.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you heard him hiss, and you watched as his other arm extended at a breakneck pace, heading straight for the speeding car. His hand snaked under the car and must have snagged onto something, because the sound of screeching tires and the smell of burnt rubber alerted you to the suddenly stopped car, and you saw how fucking far Mettaton’s arms could stretch.

You squeaked when you were lifted up and brought next to Mettaton’s side, his arm recoiling until it was its usual length, still draped around your shoulder. Any other time and you would have been pissed, but at the moment your legs felt like the consistency of jelly and you could barely hold yourself up.

Mettaton crouched down to be at eye level with you. His visible eye was wide, his pupil merely a pinprick against the glowing crimson of his iris. Strange. You didn’t remember him having red eyes.

“Are you all right?” he whispered. You merely blinked at him, and he gave you a shake and said your name firmly. “Are you _all right?_ What in the Lord’s name were you thinking, just walking out into the middle of the street like that?”

“I…I don’t know,” you murmured, hearing the wail of sirens in the distance and seeing a few curious folk starting to surround the area.

“You don’t _know?_ You could have been killed!”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice small. “I’m just…really exhausted.”

Police were beginning to arrive. Mettaton’s hard expression began to soften and the burning red of his iris ebbed into a soft, gentle pink.

“Listen, the police are already here and there’s no doubt this will be on the news tomorrow, so if you’re not in the mood to be interviewed I suggest you head back to your apartment. Think you can manage to do that without being hit by a car, darling?”

You chortled weakly. “I can manage.”

 

The short journey back to your apartment was made in a haze, and you could still hear the screeching of sirens as you snuck into the building and stepped up the stairs. You slumped into your apartment and locked the door behind you, hobbling into your bedroom and climbing onto your bed, landing face-first into a pillow.

Sleep was ready to sweep you away and before you let it your mind mulled over the events of the day.

You almost died. _Almost_.

And the reason why it was _almost_ was because Mettaton, the robot you harbored so much disdain and annoyance for, saved your life.


	4. you broke into my apartment but at least i got free food out of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow...2 updates in less than a week....as you can see...i'm dead
> 
> also this one is rlly short. im starting to get swamped w work and shit and i just wanna get as many chaps out as i can so yall dont get too #thirsty
> 
> pls feel free to follow me on tumblr @ mettagod and twitter @korosenseis

The scent of freshly-made eggs and bacon roused you from your deep sleep and your eyelids fluttered open, your off-white ceiling greeting you. You breathed out, smacking your lips a few times before turning over and snuggling your face into your pillow. You were probably dreaming up the whole eggs and bacon thing.

Your stomach began to rumble. You grimaced into the pillow and slowly dragged yourself out of bed. Maybe you could grab a quick bite and then go back to sleep.

You tugged a blanket along with you and it dragged along the floor as you sauntered into your living room. In your sleep-induced haze, you thought it was totally normal for you to smell eggs and bacon cooking when you were single and lived alone.

“Good morning, beautiful! My, you look absolutely stunning this morning!” came a robotic voice from your kitchen, and the clicking of heels on the linoleum floors announced Mettaton’s entrance. A lacy apron that proclaimed _Kiss The Cook~_ covered his front side as he swayed over to you with a plate in his hands. He gave you a smile and handed you the plate, which was piled with eggs, bacon, and toast. Your stomach roared and your mouth watered. “Eat up, darling! You must be famished since your fridge is completely empty; I had to take a special trip to the grocery just so I could make breakfast.”

You hummed as you snatched the plate from his hands, immediately beginning to scarf down the food on it. Mettaton giggled, covering his mouth as he watched you eat. You felt like you were in heaven—or just a really, really weird, yet cool, dream.

Yet, it must have been a very realistic dream, since the food tasted so good, and felt so real in your mouth as you chewed and swallowed, so much so that you slowed your chewing and your eyes narrowed in confusion. You blinked a few times, your now awake mind struggling to process the past five minutes.

Oh.

“How the fuck did you get into my apartment?” was the first thing you managed to get out instead of flat-out screaming.

Mettaton just laughed, wagging a finger at you. His hands were ungloved, and you watched as the metal on his index finger shifted to reveal what seemed to be a key. “Isn’t Alphys the smartest? I’m practically a universal key—and a remote!”

_Keep calm,_ you told yourself. _You’re too young to go to prison for strangling a robot_. As if strangling him would even work. “But…why…the fuck…are you here?”

“My, my, you and your strong language, darling,” the robot tutted, clicking his tongue. “I just wanted to drop in and see how you were doing since yesterday’s little incident. I take it you’re okay?”

“…oh.” You immediately felt like an asshole as you had completely forgotten about yesterday’s events. You pursed your lips before you heaved a sigh, sitting the half-empty plate onto your coffee table. “I’m okay. Uh…” God, you were awful at this. Suck it up, buttercup. Be the adult you had to be. “Thank you. For yesterday, I mean. You saved my life.”

“It’s not a problem, honey.” Mettaton gave you a warm, kind smile, and you felt warmth enter your cold, dead heart for once, and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Though I must admit…I did have an ulterior motive for breaking into your apartment and making you a five-star breakfast.”

You bristled slightly. “Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Mettaton had a melancholy look on his face. “I know how you’re not a big fan of mine—which I completely understand. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.” You snorted, and he snickered. “But I realized that perhaps my attempts at trying to make you a fan—it might not be what I actually want to accomplish.” He cleared his throat. “What I am trying to say is—I would like to be friends with you, darling.”

In that moment after Mettaton had uttered those words, everything in the world slowed to a crawl, and eventually halted all together.

Mettaton’s face was hopeful, his visible eye wide and a bright, glowing pink. And somehow, a powder-pink flush stained his cheeks even though he was a fucking robot. And it was in that moment that you realized that you _wanted_ to be friends with him; well, at least try. You finally got to see through the façade that his career forced him to put up, which covered up a kind, genuine person (robot) who seemed to care for others just as much as he cared for himself. Evidently he cared about you enough to stop a drunk driver from slamming into you with their speeding car.

You cracked him a smile and said words you never thought would come out of your mouth. “Well, you’ve got yourself a new friend, Mettaton.”

The look on his face was that of unadulterated joy and he scooped you up into a tight hug, nearly crushing you. Warmth radiated off of the robot like heat from the sun and you heard fans whirring inside of him. You laughed, patting his back, slowly coming to the realization what time it is.

“Shit, I’m late for work!” you gasped as you pushed away from him, swerving around on your heel, trying to make your way to your bedroom. You were quicker than you could handle when your foot caught on the edge of the couch and gravity did its job—almost. A familiar arm wound around you in the blink of an eye and soon your nose was barely brushing against the floor.

“My, my, what _am_ I going to do with you?” Mettaton _tsk_ ed, gently pulling you back onto your feet. His arm continued to stay wrapped around your torso.

“Mettaton, you can let go now. I need to go to work.”

“You’re not going anywhere, you little workaholic.” Mettaton laughed as you struggled, waving his cell phone in his free hand. “I’ve already called Catty and Bratty to let them know you’re taking the day off. You’re exhausted and you had a near death experience yesterday and you just need a break.”

“But—”

“No _buts_ , darling!” Mettaton declared, setting you down on the couch. You were amazed at how strong he was, despite how noodle-like his arms were. “Now you’re going to sit down and finish the rest of your breakfast and enjoy your day off.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew it was inevitable. Mettaton actually sat himself in the loveseat next to your couch, perching his head on his hands as if he were a watchdog, examining your every move. You sighed in defeat, but with a smile, as you finished your breakfast. What a strange start to a blossoming friendship.


	5. this is what friends do, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow look at this...an update...........................................
> 
> hoLY shit im so sorry that this is so late spring semester was killing me and i had no time to write with my workload and my mental health went to shit BUT i'm on SUMMER BREAK RIGHT NOW so hopefully updates wont be so far apart

Honestly, at the end of the day you were glad Mettaton forced you to stay home. You realized just how worn out you were and figured that hey, you deserved a break. Mettaton had stayed with you all day (you supposed he thought you were going to make an escape to work), but he treated you like royalty, almost. He made you breakfast, got your groceries, spruced up your apartment and even offered to give you a back massage.

Mettaton was talented in many aspects: he could sing, he was a good actor, he could cook, and he had _very_ clever hands. Very dexterous hands, hands that could _vibrate._

“You didn’t have to stay with me all day, y’know,” you murmured from your spot on the couch, feeling rejuvenated. You couldn’t wait to go back to work tomorrow with a new spring in your step. “I thought you had a movie to shoot or something.”

“I just told the directors I had more pressing matters to attend to today and that we could resume filming tomorrow,” Mettaton said simply. He was in your kitchen, cooking your dinner, despite your protests. God, you wondered if he was going to ask to spend the night. “This is what friends do, right? Hang out, take care of each other?”

You pursed your lips, pushing yourself up from the couch to amble your way into the kitchen. One of Mettaton’s arms was busy chopping up vegetables while the other was preoccupied with stirring something in a pot on the stove. You peaked over to see it was a pot of noodles. “Are you making spaghetti?”

The robot smiled at you. “Yes! It’s a recipe that I got from a friend of mine—with a few tweaks to it, of course. I like adding my own personal flair to things.”

“Would that friend happen to be an overzealous skeleton?” you asked, a smile on your face as you snatched a water bottle from your fridge.

“Right again! How did you guess?” Mettaton was beginning on making the sauce, pouring the veggies into a saucepan next to the noodles.

“Papyrus and I are friends,” you explained, putting the bottle to your lips. “I could smell his spaghetti anywhere since he makes it for me, like, all the time. Well, used to.”

Mettaton’s stirring faltered for a second, then picked right back up. “Used to? Are you not friends anymore?”

“Oh, no, we’re still friends,” you replied quickly. You stared down at the bottle in your hands, pursing your lips. “It’s just that…ever since I started working at the café I haven’t really had time to hang out with anyone. I work, I come home exhausted, I go to bed—rinse and repeat. The only time I see anyone is if they come visit me at the café.”

You heard Mettaton hum contemplatively, which was a soft mechanical whirr. “Don’t you ever get bored of it all?”

You blinked up at Mettaton, who had turned his head to give you a look. “Sometimes, I guess. But most of the time I’m too busy to be bored.”

Mettaton opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of your doorbell buzzing cut him off. You excused yourself, pushing away from the counter and bustling over to the door. You stood on your tiptoes to peek through the peephole to see who it was.

“Hello there!” you said as you opened the door, a smile spreading across your face. “I wasn’t expecting you guys. C’mon in.”

“I’m so sorry for the unexpected visit,” Toriel said, with a sheepish smile. You shut the door behind them, momentarily forgetting that a celebrity robot was cooking spaghetti for you in your kitchen. “We stopped by the café after school today and Frisk was worried because you weren’t there, so we wanted to come check up on you.” She suddenly gasped. “And I saw that you had almost gotten hit by a car! Are you all right, dear?”

You laughed, scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was a bit jarring, to say the least.”

Frisk was bouncing up at down, trying to get your attention. You snickered and crouched down to meet them eye-to-eye. “What is it, kiddo?”

_Uncle MTT saved you, right? I saw it on the TV! It was like on a movie_. They smiled at you and you remembered Mettaton was in your house, making you spaghetti, in your kitchen.

“Yeah! If it weren’t for him I’d be flatter than a pancake. Speaking of him…” You stood up and called, “Hey, Mettaton, someone’s here to see you!”

You smiled down at Frisk, whose head was tilted to the side in confusion. Heels clacking against the floor alerted Frisk to Mettaton’s presence, and a huge smile split their face in two and they rushed forward to greet the robot. Mettaton was definitely ready for it, laughing and leaning over to scoop Frisk up in his arms and pressing a kiss to their forehead.

“Well, hello there, darling! I wasn’t expecting to see you today. My, you’ve grown so much, I feel myself tearing up!” Mettaton gushed, tucking a strand of hair behind Frisk’s ear. They giggled.

Okay, you had to admit that even though you tried to put on a tough exterior, you were a total softie. And the scene playing out in front of you, with Mettaton and Frisk was tugging at your damn heartstrings. You were trying not to make squealing sounds and it was really, really hard not to.

Eventually Toriel and Frisk departed, Mettaton waving them off with a smile. Frisk had turned back and winked at you, giggly softly. You wondered what that could have meant.

When you heard the door click you sighed, flinging yourself onto the couch. Mettaton disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a plate of food and you took it from him with a smile.

“Y’know, I’m not going to lie,” you said as you twirled your fork in the spaghetti. “You’re a cool uncle.”

“R-Really?” Did his voice just skip like a scratched up CD?

“Yep. You were so cute with Frisk I thought I was gonna explode.”

Mettaton blinked at you, like he had never received a genuine compliment in his life. Then he laughed, flicking his bangs out of his face. “Well, of course I’m an amazing uncle, darling. I excel at everything I do.”

_There he goes again with that narcissism_ , you thought. You rolled your eyes as you continued to eat, and Mettaton seemed almost offended that you didn’t agree with him.

“Well, I do believe that I must be off, sweetheart,” Mettaton said, tone sad. “No doubt I’ll be a busy bee tomorrow since I took off today. But I had an amazing time.” He smiled at you, and it made you scrape your fork against the plate, making an unpleasant sound that made you wince. “It’s nice to pamper someone else for a change.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” you asked all-too abruptly, and you wanted to hit yourself. “I mean, at the café.”

Mettaton cocked his head at you, smirking. “You sound like you miss me already and I haven’t even left. Already madly in love with me, I take it?”

You spluttered, blood boiling beneath your cheeks. “Shut up, I was just asking!”

The robot cackled as he made his way over to your door and you scowled, trailing after him. He had a hand on the nob and was twisting it while he was facing you, a stupid grin plastered on his face. Even though you were officially friends now or whatever you still wanted to slap it off of him.

“Yes, you’ll probably see me tomorrow, if I’m not totally overwhelmed.” He slowly pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway. “Or maybe I’ll send one of my interns.”

“Or you could just not be a lazy ass and get your own coffee,” you pointed out, snorting when Mettaton made an indignant sound. “What? I’m just saying.”

“Darling, I am the most hardworking person I know. Besides you, of course.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway! I must be off, since I have some business to attend to. Take care of yourself, all right?”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you wanted to hug him, but you held yourself back. It was too early for that, and you weren’t really a touchy-feely person. You allowed yourself to give him a light push on the shoulder which didn’t move him at all. Bummer. “I will. Now go on with your business.”

The robot chortled, giving you a simple salute before he began to sashay down the hall. You watched him disappear into a stairwell and waiting for the click-clack of his heels to mute before you latched your door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for being patient and i'm sorry that this chapter is so choppy and weird,,, like i said i havent been having any time to write so im a bit rusty
> 
> also im working on an uf!mettaton/reader smut fic since no one writes those n i like to sin :) so that'll be up eventually
> 
> anyway thank u for reading!!!!! 
> 
> tumblr: mettagod  
> twitter: bossmonsters


	6. oh anxiety, how i hate when you're right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

The next day you awoke completely refreshed and relaxed, no longer weighed down by the exhaustion that clung to you. You were honestly amazed, staring up at your off-white ceiling, kicking yourself for not taking Mettaton’s advice and taking off before he forced you. You felt like you could take on the whole world and it was just morning.

You hopped out of bed with a spring in your step, whistling a tune while you made your way into the kitchen. Mettaton had made sure to stock your fridge, and damn, you were surprised that all of the food he bought even fit into the thing. At least that was one worry off your list; maybe the missed day’s pay wouldn’t matter since you had a plentiful supply of food. Good food, at that—fresh fruits and veggies, lean meats and a thirty-two pack of water bottles.

Mettaton had been quick to treat you like royalty when hours before you wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

Something gnawed in your gut. You felt bad for the way you had acted towards the robot before you had sealed the deal on your friendship. He had seemed like it was all fine but you still felt like you needed to make up for it. Ideas sprung in your head. Maybe you could paint him something—whenever you had time. You would cook him something but you assumed he didn’t need to eat so it would just be a waste. Well, maybe he could eat? There’s no telling what Alphys built him with.

You made an omelet and some toast smeared with jam, busying yourself with nibbling on the crusts while waiting for your coffee to brew. You flicked through some TV channels but nothing interesting was on besides the news. After you chased down your breakfast with a cup of coffee you hopped in the shower and continued on with your morning routine.

 

“ _OMG!_ ” both Catty and Bratty howled as they rushed into the café, being greeted by several stares from customers. They practically tripped over themselves to get over to you and when they did they almost tackled you with a giant hug. “You’re, like, totally okay!”

“Of course I am!” You laughed, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. It was a nice feeling, knowing people at least worried about you. “It’s just that when you have a near-death experience you find the need to take off.”

“According to Mettaton, that’s not true,” Bratty tutted, wagging a clawed finger at you.

“He told us, like, that you were totally determined to come to work yesterday,” Catty mewed.

“What the hell, are you three all buddy-buddy now, or what?” you said. Did you sense jealously in your own tone? No. Well, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself if you did.

“Well, he does have both of our numbers,” Bratty said, then turned to help a customer at the counter. You huffed, puffing out your cheeks.

“So, like, what did you guys do yesterday?” Catty inquired, waggling her eyebrows. It sounded like she was implying something actually happened and you scoffed.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, turning away to hide the blush in your cheeks. “He made me food, gave me a massage, and we…I dunno, officially became friends.”

Bratty had finished making the customer’s drink, as she came over and intertwined her fingers with Catty’s. They looked at you and said simultaneously, “ _Oh. My. Gosh. How romantic._ ”

“It wasn’t romantic! You guys are reading too much into this.” The bell over the door chimed. A customer was walking out. “I’m surprised you’re both not trying to kill me out of jealousy.”

The two gasped, as if it was the most offensive thing they had ever heard hurled at them. “We’re not those kinds of fans.”

“You know, the kind that, like,” Bratty started.

“Totally stalks him and is just creepy in general,” Catty finished.

You shuddered. Yeah, they weren’t those kinds of fans. Those kinds of fans made you sick to their stomach. And knowing that Mettaton probably had them and that they could possibly know where he lived sent your stomach into a twist.

You didn’t know why. Were you worried for Mettaton’s safety or your own? What if his more unhinged fans knew of your friendship and thought it was something more? What if they came after _you?_

You shook your head, dismissing the thought. Your anxiety loved to do this, but the more logical part of you debunked it immediately. There was no way that would happen. The only public interaction between you and Mettaton was the footage of him yanking you out of the way of a speeding car. He saved your life. There’s no way a fan could get angry over that.

Or maybe they would. Maybe it was a fantasy of theirs to get saved by Mettaton.

Whatever. You had work. You could think about it later.

 

Unfortunately Mettaton did not make an appearance at the café all day, not even an intern. Like he said, he was most likely preoccupied with the movie and he didn’t have time for a coffee break. You told yourself no to be upset. He was your neighbor. You’d probably see him later tonight.

Some of your friends did make an appearance though: Undyne and Alphys, Toriel and Frisk, and heck, even Papyrus and his lazy brother Sans managed to hit up the café, all checking up on you to see if you were all right. Warmth blossomed in your chest. It was nice to have friends that cared about you and checked up on you.

However, despite it all, worry still weighed heavily in your gut. You had a strange feeling something bad was happening, or was about to happen, or had already happened and you were about to walk right into it. Playing it off wasn’t working anymore. You kept your bag tucked under your arm and your keys slotted through your fingers, held tightly in your hands during your trek back home.

Surprisingly, no fans of Mettaton lingered outside the main entrance to the apartment complex. Your brow furrowed. Surely he would be home by now? Or, perhaps not—he was probably still busy with work. Maybe shooting scenes was taking longer than expected, or he forgot his lines. Maybe there would be a blooper reel.

Even though the main entrance was clear you snuck in through a side door. You felt the need to not be seen at the moment. It felt like ages before you finally reached the floor you were on, and the length of the hallway to your apartment felt longer than a mile.

You were in front of Mettaton’s door. You halted, ears pricked, searching for any sign of the robot.

No sounds. No mechanical whirring of any kind.

He wasn’t here.

Frowning, you took a step closer to your door and you halted. A sliver of light was pouring onto the linoleum floor.

Your door was open.

Your first thought was to panic but you quickly shoved it aside, swallowing. Reaching with a shaky hand, you pushed the door open the rest of the way, only to be greeted with pure chaos. Tears welled in your eyes and you gasped, covering your mouth, your keys and your bag clanking on the floor.

Someone had broken into your apartment and completely trashed the place.


	7. truth or dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've seen civil war 2 times nd all i wanna do is write stevebucky
> 
> also......stay tuned for some info regarding where this fic is going to go in the end notes
> 
> mettagod @ tumblr

After you allowed the initial shock to pass through your system and a few tears to roll down your cheeks you steeled yourself and pushed your way into your trashed apartment. The preparations still weren’t enough to help you handle what was inside.

Inside the living room it was a disaster, cushions tossed off the couch and lamps knocked off askew end tables, shattered glass littering the floor. The pictures you hung on your wall—mostly of you and your friends—were either uneven or tossed haphazardly onto the ground, the glass splintered into tiny shards. The screen of your TV was busted; thousands of tiny fissures blossoming from the center as if someone had taken a baseball bat to it.

The kitchen was trashed as well: all of the food Mettaton had bought for you was tossed around, probably spoiled; the microwave’s door was hanging on for dear life with a single hinge still intact; your toaster had been smashed onto the linoleum floor.

It was getting harder to breathe with the lump in your throat. You pushed yourself away from the kitchen and went into your bedroom. It wasn’t any better—your mattress looked as if someone had taken a knife and completely ripped it up, more lamps and pictures slung carelessly onto the floor. Surprisingly, you noted, there was nothing missing. At least, from what you could tell.

You entered your bathroom to see that the toilet had overflowed, adding possible water damage to the laundry list of things you had to worry about. The shower curtain had been ripped from its hinges, the shower rod holding on for dear life. Slowly, you turned to face the mirror, shocked to see a message scrawled across the reflective glass in red lipstick.

**_STAY AWAY FROM MTT_ **

You sucked in a breath through your nose. Your anxiety had been right—Mettaton _did_ have deranged fans and those fans must have been the ones (you didn’t know how many there were; there could be only one, or many, many more; you shuddered at the thought) who broke into your apartment and completely tore it apart.

Oh, god. _Mettaton._ Your mind immediately fell back to him. You couldn’t tell him about this. There’s no telling what he’d do. You recalled when he had saved you from the drunk driver, the enraged look in his eye, as if he could take down an army of a thousand men. And, hell, he could—his original purpose was for eradicating humans, though Alphys claimed that she programmed that out of him.

Still. He could never find out that this was one of his fans’ doings. He’d go out on a ballistic rampage.

You wanted to wipe the threatening message off the mirror to completely insure Mettaton would never find out it was one of his fans, but you couldn’t—it was evidence. Your eyes scanned the note over and over, examining each swirl of every letter as you pulled out your phone and dialed the number.

“Hello, 911? I’d like to report a burglary…”

 

Yellow police tape now blocked off your apartment from the general public, the occasional detective ducking under to go inside to survey the area. You sat in front of Mettaton’s door, arms around your legs and face buried in your chest. You were despondent, for the most part, but you were cooperating with the police as much as you could. You knew each hallway in your apartment complex had security cameras so hopefully catching the perpetrator of the crime wouldn’t be so hard.

“Oh, my goodness! What in the name of Asgore is going on?”

At the sound of the robotic voice your head snapped up and you bristled. Mettaton was walking quickly down the hall, his heels clacking obnoxiously on the floor. A few policemen gave him chary looks. He screeched to a halt when he saw you, saying your name breathlessly.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Are you all right?” He knelt down and offered you his hand, pulling you onto your feet in one fluid motion.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered, a bit wary.

“I’ve known you for less than two weeks and I already know you’re a terrible liar. Please tell me what happened.”

Oh, god. If Mettaton found out one of his fans did this to you he would be devastated, even more so than you were.

“I guess I forgot to lock my door and someone kinda. Broke into my apartment and completely trashed the place.” Your voice broke. No way were you going to cry in front of him.

Mettaton’s visible eye widened and the pink turned three shades darker, the pupil dilating slightly. “Oh, really now?”

The robot opened his mouth again to speak but was silenced when a detective tapped your shoulder. You excused yourself with an abrupt nod of your head as the detective pulled you off to the side.

“So what’s going to happen?” you asked.

“Well, we’ve found some evidence—some hair that we believe to be from a monster and a tube of lipstick that we’ve concluded doesn’t belong to you, correct?” the detective replied, and you nodded, swallowing. Your mouth felt extremely dry.

He jerked his head towards a camera mounted on the wall not far from your apartment. “We’re gonna collect some footage from security and review it, to see if we can find any possible suspects. But while this investigation is going on you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.”

You nodded. “That’s understandable.”

“You got somewhere to stay?” The detective paid a glance over your shoulder, probably at Mettaton, who was tapping a steady rhythm with his foot. He wanted to talk to you. His glare was burning into your back. “With him?”

“Oh, no. Hell no.” There’s no way you could stay with him; he literally lived in the apartment next to yours! And if whoever trashed your apartment found out, there’s no telling what they would do. You actually feared for your life at this point.

“Sweetheart, what is taking you so long?” Mettaton complained from behind you. “You’re leaving me in the dark here, I’m ever so worried about you…”

Hot air blew through your nose and you gave an apologetic glance to the detective before you turned around and approached Mettaton, slapping on the best poker face you could manage.

“While they’re investigating I can’t stay here, so I’m going to be staying at a friend’s house,” you explained.

“You could stay with me, you know,” Mettaton offered. Of course.

You heaved a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Breathe, you told yourself. Smooth out the wrinkles on your face. “I know. But I can’t.”

Mettaton studied you for a second, a slight pout quirking his synthetic lips. He sighed as well, hands resting on his curvy hips. “Fine. But lend me your phone for a second.”

You opened your mouth to question him, but he simply flashed his palm up at you, waiting for you to place your phone in his hand. Scowling, you handed it to him and watched as his fingers danced along the screen before he gave it back to you.

“I put my number in your phone,” he said. “So if you need anything, please do not hesitate to contact me, darling.”

The two of you stood in silence for a tick before Mettaton calmly leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Your shoulders stiffened but otherwise you remained frozen until Mettaton pulled away, flashing you with a smile before he disappeared into his apartment, door clicking shut behind him.

 

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Toriel,” you said as she handed you a folded blanket, neatly propping a pillow on top of it. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The monster simply smiled at you, then returned to rummaging through the closet, pulling out more blankets. “It is not a problem, my child. You’ve been through so much within the span of a week, you must be exhausted. I do hope they catch the perpetrator of the crime…”

_You and me both, lady,_ you thought to yourself. At least your insurance would cover most of the damage and would get you some new stuff back. You were still miffed about all the food that had been wasted—that food could have gotten you through at least two weeks.

“I’ll try and get out of your fur as soon as possible,” you told her as the two of you made your way into Frisk’s bedroom, where you would be staying the night. Toriel had an extra mattress stored away, which was perfect as Frisk requested that you stay in their bedroom for the night. It would be like a sleepover.

“Nonsense. You take as much time as you need, young one.” A soft, clawed paw reached over and smoothed out your hair and you snickered. “Frisk and I always enjoy your company.”

Thanking Toriel once again, you bid her goodnight as she cracked the door to Frisk’s room. You were standing, the mattress resting next to your bare feet, and Frisk was perched atop their bed, bouncing slightly from excitement. You gave them a lopsided smile before plopping down onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark stars were dotted randomly across the expanse of the ceiling, creating a little galaxy one could get lost it.

“I dunno what you’re so excited for, kiddo,” you told the child, who was grinning down at you from their bed. “I’m beat. I’m about to fall asleep right now.”

Frisk frowned down at you, then raised their hands to begin signing. _One round of truth or dare. Please?_

You sighed, but with a smile. “Shoot.”

_Truth or dare?_

“Truth.”

Frisk almost seemed hesitant to sign, which was a concern for you. _Do you like MTT?_

You scoffed. “Really, Frisk?” A giggle was their answer, and you huffed, glaring up at the ceiling while your mind formulated your answer. Frisk waited with bated breath, their chin in their hands while they kicked their legs back and forth.

“Yeah, he’s cool,” you said finally. “But the whole glitz and glamour thing is a bit hard for me to handle. Um.” You chewed on your bottom lip. Should you tell Frisk about who you suspected wrecked your apartment? You paid them a glance before returning your eyes to the ceiling. You could trust them, you told yourself. Despite their age, Frisk was an intelligent, mature child who was serious when need be. “Can I tell you something? You have to promise me you won’t tell Mettaton.”

Frisk hummed in contemplation. Your heart jackhammered in your chest as you watched them sign out their response: _I promise._

A relieved sigh blew through your lips. “Thanks, Frisk.” You fingered a fraying string that stuck out from the stitching of your blanket. “So I’m pretty sure one of Mettaton’s stalker fans found out I was getting too close for comfort with him, so they trashed my apartment and wrote _Stay away from MTT_ on my bathroom mirror in red lipstick.”

A small hand flew up to cover Frisk’s mouth to stifle their gasp of shock. They signed down at you frantically. _You have to tell him! Maybe if he made a public announcement about it they’ll leave you alone?_

“He’d only make it worse,” you mumbled, scrubbing your eyes until colorful spots danced in your vision. “And then whoever it was would know I still talk to him and who knows what would happen to me then.”

_But you can’t keep it a secret from him forever,_ Frisk retorted. _Keeping it away from him will just make it worse._

“I know.” You rolled onto your side and pulled the blanket over your head. Your eyes were still visible, though, to see Frisk’s response. “Listen, kiddo. I have work and you have school tomorrow, so we should probably go to sleep.”

Frisk stuck out their tongue and responded, _But we’re still playing truth or dare._

You smiled sleepily. “Fine. Truth or dare?”

_Dare._

“I dare you to go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm feeling this weird block thing coming on with this fic which is weird since i have up to chapter 10 i think planned out (i want 15 chapters but that probably won't happen lbr) but i'll try to update as much as i can. (this is probably because a new marvel movie came out and my undertale interest has been sat on the back burner for the time being) as for the content i don't think i'm going to write smut in it after all--and if i do, it will be in a separate fic/a spinoff chapter not apart of the story since i kind of just want the reader and metta to just???? have a relationship without sex in this???? im sorry if you came into this fic expecting Sexy Times because the way this is going i can't figure out how to incorporate it all into the story without it seeming completely out of place. 
> 
> also some warnings for upcoming chapters: if stalking/stalkers make you uncomfortable then i highly suggest that you read the next chapters with caution (whenever they get uploaded). i don't want to spoil the content of the story but stalking will be a key component of the plot, as well as paranoia and some violence towards the reader. 
> 
> thank you all so much for reading and putting up with my lame-ass excuses. i WILL force myself to finish this fic if it kills me!!!!!!


	8. tea and terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall im so sorry this chapter was so delayed and is so short...i just knew i needed to UPDATE THIS  
> updates will probably be slow coming in the future since i've put undertale on the backburner and went back to marvel...but i will TRY TO WRITE MORE OF THIS FIC 
> 
> and ive changed my url so...if u wanna follow me...im at starkhasheart.tumblr.com

“We heard about your apartment, are you okay?”

Catty and Bratty’s usual bubbly voices seemed morose, and you cocked a brow up at them. They were frowning at you, faces twisted in what seemed to be concern. You sighed while you poured a cup of tea for a customer, handing it off to them with a fake smile. Afterwards you turned back to them.

“I mean, no. I’m not fine. Far from it actually. But I’ll be okay as soon as they find out who did it.” You turned away, grumbling, “And I already have an idea who did.”

“Ooh, do tell,” the two monsters echoed, flanking your shoulders as you started to wash dishes.

You pursed your lips. “…Fine. But you have to promise you won’t tell Mettaton.” You raised both of your hands, wagging your pinkies. The two sighed in exasperation and twined their own pinkies (or what were meant to be pinkies) with yours and shook on it.

“I don’t know who it was, specifically, but what I do know is that it was one of Mettaton’s stalker fans,” you hissed under your breath. Catty and Bratty gasped in unison. “They left me a threatening message _: Stay away from MTT_. I guess they’re just jealous of me…or something?”

“You should really talk to Mettaton about this,” Catty murmured quietly, an ear flicking.

“What am I supposed to say?” The bell over the door chiming punctuated your statement. “’Hey, some of your weird fans want me dead’? I don’t think Mettaton would believe me.”

“What wouldn’t I believe, darling?”

You froze, standing stiff as a board. You hadn’t registered the clicking of his high-heeled boots on the floors. Whirring around, you coughed, forcing a smile, “Oh, uh, nothing. It’s nothing.”

Mettaton tutted and crossed his arms. An expensive fur coat hung daintily over his shoulders and he lifted up his fuschia-colored designer sunglasses to look at you. You know he wanted to ask, but he didn’t seem like pushing it, which you found odd.

“Well, if you insist.” He turned his gaze onto Catty and Bratty. “If you two don’t mind, may I borrow this one for a moment?”

Puzzled, Catty and Bratty exchanged furtive glances and said, “Uh, like, sure. You’re on break, I guess.”

Mettaton smiled. “Splendid! I’ll be over in the corner. Mind making us some tea, perhaps?”

 

Your hands were practically shaking as you brought two tea glasses full of the piping-hot beverage over to the table where Mettaton waited, tucked away in a quiet corner of the café where one would go to avoid the public eye. However, you did manage to get the drinks over in one piece without spilling a drop, which you were very proud of. The clink of glass on the wood table made Mettaton blink out of his trance, and he smiled up at you as you took a seat.

“I would ask if you’re doing okay, but I believe both of us know the answer to that,” Mettaton began, taking a sip of tea as if it weren’t screaming hot and he wasn’t a robot.

You scrubbed your arm, desperately wishing you weren’t there. “I mean…I’m not dead, so there’s that. I’m staying with Toriel for the time being until they get this shit figured out. Um.” Teeth sank into your lower lip before you continued. “Why…are you here exactly?”

“I figured I would check up on you with a little coffee date since you didn’t bother texting or calling me and letting me know you’re doing okay.” Mettaton actually pouted, and he sound genuinely hurt that you didn’t check in with him.

“Well, I’m fine right now.” The bell chimed. A customer walked in. A few, in fact. You felt curious glares burning into your back and you focused on your grip around the teacup, feeling the warmth flooding through the porcelain. “Thanks for…being concerned, I guess.” The tang of copper filled your mouth as you bit your lip too hard, a habit you needed to break. “I’m sorry if I seem standoffish, I’m just—not used to people really caring like you do.” You smiled, and Mettaton’s eye flickered carnation pink. “Thanks, Mettaton. You’ve done so much for me in so little time.”

The celebrity robot seemed taken aback and flustered, and he cleared his throat, lips quirked upwards. “It’s not a problem, darling. Erm…” He was staring at your lips and you felt heat creeping up your cheeks. “Your lip is bleeding.”

Before you could say anything, Mettaton snatched a napkin and dabbed your bottom lip with it, staining it with small droplets of blood. Your face felt like it was ablaze, like a forest fire that dragged on for miles, and the glares boring into your back became stronger, and you sensed malice and disdain.

Shit.

“Dear me, I’ve run out of time. I must be back at the set soon.” Mettaton stood up and quickly drained the rest of his tea. “This is wonderful tea, gorgeous, what flavor is it?”

“G-Golden flower,” you replied, hoarsely. You heard the clicking of cameras.

Mettaton blinked, chuckling. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before saying his final goodbyes, and the leers were starting to burn and leave invisible scars laced with contempt all over your back.

You had to tell him. But you didn’t know how.


	9. being stubborn is no longer an option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy america day, yall. have an update
> 
> tumblr: starkhasheart.tumblr.com

You never realized how much disdain you harbored for the paparazzi until you had become the subject of their work.

The headline stood out boldly to your eyes: _Mettaton’s New Boo—Has The Celebrity Robot Finally Found A Significant Other?_ It almost felt like it was mocking you, and the picture tacked below it of Mettaton kissing your forehead was the icing on the cake, almost. Your eyes burned and you gritted your teeth in anger, your arm flopping weakly onto the bed beneath you. The sound caused Frisk to look at you quizzically, brows raised.

_You okay?_ they signed, frowning.

“No,” you responded flatly, handing them your phone so they could see what was troubling you. They pursed their lips, then gasped in surprise, quickly returning your phone so they could respond.

_You and MTT are dating? And I’m only hearing about it now?_

“We’re not dating!” you snapped, and Frisk snorted. “It was just…a platonic kiss. But tabloids always throw things out of proportion.” You groaned and covered your face. “Now I’m really in for it. His stalker fans are going to be all over me and I’m never gonna be able to go home.”

_Or_ , Frisk replied, _you could just tell Mettaton and he could take care of it._

You scooted up and looked them in the eye. “You do not understand how much I cannot do that.”

_Why not?_ The child tapped their chin, staring at you contemplatively.

“Because!” You hopped up from the bed and wrung your hands nervously before carding them through your hair. “I don’t know how he’ll react—he could get mad and go on a rampage, he could totally not believe me, and get mad at me because he thinks I’m lying about his fans…”

You heard Frisk sigh, and craned your neck so you could see them respond. _You are such a worrywart. MTT seems to really care about you and your wellbeing, so I’m positive that he would believe you if you told him._

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes sliding off of Frisk’s hands to stare off into space while your mind contemplated your options. What Frisk had said wracked something within you, and you recalled everything Mettaton had done for you up to this point. Maybe the child was right—maybe Mettaton would care about you enough to stop a deranged fan from causing you anymore harm.

Frisk clearing their throat snapped you out of your train of thought, and you blinked at them. _But just in case anything else happens, Undyne said she wants to teach you some self-defense techniques._

 

Your arms ached, your breaths coming out in shaky bursts of air as you collapsed onto the couch of Undyne and Alphys’s home. All of the furniture had been pushed to the sidelines, forming a clearing in the middle of the room where you and Undyne sparred—well, where she sparred and you worked hard to avoid her fists of fury. You were exhausted, more than you had been when Mettaton had yanked you out of the way of the drunk driver that fateful night.

“Y’know, human, when you’re in a fight with someone it would be wise to at least land a hit on them,” Undyne spoke, and you cracked an eye open to see her flashing her sharp teeth at you in a huge grin, offering you some water. You took the bottle with a nod of thanks, gulping some of the liquid down before responding.

“Sorry,” you said, clearing your throat. Sweat had gotten into your eyes and you blinked rapidly, warding off the sting. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“I can see that.” Undyne rolled her neck and you heard joints pop. “But you’ve least learned a few pointers, right?”

You nodded, sipping the water thoughtfully. You weren’t exactly the strongest person and Undyne was well aware of that, so she had demonstrated to you some moves to use that would work even if one lacked the strength to deliver powerful blows. Two fingers jabbed into the eyes would definitely stall an attacker enough for you to make a quick getaway.

Your gut twisted in worry. This shouldn’t be happening to you. You shouldn’t have to live your days in fear that you may be attacked, and part of you wanted to place the blame on Mettaton. After all, they were his fans and his fans basically wanted you _dead_ (or just out of the picture altogether). The logical part of you that had been screaming from the beginning to tell Mettaton still was not quiet, and you almost wanted to give in.

But you wouldn’t. You were too stubborn.

“A-Are you sure you’ll be all right getting yourself back to Toriel’s?” Alphys asked as you approached their front door, about to depart. “It won’t be any trouble for us to take you.”

You smiled down at the yellow monster, touched by the concern in her voice. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got all these new self-defense techniques under my belt.” _And mace_ , you thought, feeling the weight of it on your key ring.

“You could also have a spear!” Undyne crowed, brandishing one of her many signature weapons and tapping the end of it on the floor. “No one would even think of messin’ with ya if you got one of these!”

You laughed, turning the knob. “Thanks for the offer, Undyne, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. I don’t think Toriel would appreciate me bringing a weapon of mass destruction into her home anyway.”

 

For some ungodly reason the urge to visit Mettaton had plagued you all day and you were finally giving into that urge.

Toriel’s house wasn’t that far from Undyne and Alphys’s, as well as the apartment complex, so you figured you could drop in and give a quick hello to the robot and update him, as well as show him that stupid article about you two dating—he’d probably get a kick out of it.

On your way to the complex you were at ease, but you reminded yourself to be on guard. Your keys were slotted in between your knuckles and you had opted not to listen to music during the trip, so you could hear footsteps just in case someone decided to pop up and surprise attack you. The notion made you chuckle softly, but your paranoia would not be silenced.

You had made it to the café, and was about to cross the street, when something caught your eye. You whirled around to face your workplace and gaped.

The café was well known for having large, gaping windows to let the light from the early morning wash over the room and warm it up. Now, all over the windows was graffiti, and some of them had even been broken. You covered your mouth in shock, eyes widening when you took in the words the graffiti formed.

**_STAY AWAY FROM METTATON_ **

It was at that moment in time you realized that being stubborn was no longer an option.

Anger fueled your remaining steps across the road as you made your way to the apartment complex, into the alley where the backdoor was. Your heart was pounding in your chest like the drums in a song and your blood was roaring in your ears. And, through the torrent of emotions that you were experiencing, you felt something shouting within you.

And that something was screaming “duck”.

You shot down just as a metal bat whizzed over your head, coming into contact with the bricks of the building with a thump. There was an opening.

Undyne had taught you multiple weaknesses to aim for when being attacked; some of which included, but were not limited to: the eyes, nose, throat, solar plexus, and the stomach. When the perpetrator swung the bat, they left an opening for you to snake in and make your move.

You buried your foot into the perpetrator’s stomach, causing them to cough and stumble backwards onto their rear. You couldn’t make out any of their features, but you could see that they were human; unlike their partner-in-crime, who had managed to rake their claws across your cheek before you managed to spray a cloud of mace directly into their uncovered eyes. The monster yowled in pain and you knocked them out of your way, rushing into the apartment and locking the door behind you.

“Fuck!” you spat, blood already rolling down your face in streams as you hurried up the stairs onto your floor, praying Mettaton was home.

You arrived at his door, seeing yellow tape still covering yours. You rapped your knuckle urgently on the wood and hissed, “Mettaton, it’s me.”

“Ooh, coming, sweetheart!” You heard him pipe from behind the door, and you tapped your foot impatiently. Blood was running down your throat and staining your shirt.

The door finally opened and Mettaton was there, dressed in the same expensive robe he wore the morning you had gotten onto him for singing that Tracy Chapman song at five in the morning. He was smiling at you brightly but when he saw your appearance his face dropped, and the pink of his iris became tinted with red.

“What in the love of Asgore happened to you?” he whispered, grabbing your chin and twisting your face so he could examine your cheek. “Were you attacked?”

You pulled away from him and splayed a hand over his chassis, pushing him into his apartment, muttering, “We need to talk.”


End file.
